


Only You

by bitter_leaf



Category: One Direction (Band), Shawn Mendes (Musician)
Genre: A take on Can't Hardly Wait, Alternate Universe - High School, Fate & Destiny, Featuring love letters, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, House Party, M/M, Pining, and a faulty bathroom lock, and questionable pranks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:54:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23076619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitter_leaf/pseuds/bitter_leaf
Summary: Yesterday's history. Tomorrow's the future. Tonight's the party.School’s out and Harry has one last chance to tell Louis how he feels.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Niall Horan/Shawn Mendes, Zayn Malik/Liam Payne
Comments: 22
Kudos: 78





	Only You

**Author's Note:**

> So I'd been toying with a Can't Hardly Wait AU for ages because Harry is basically the biggest Preston ever and Louis makes a beautiful Amanda. Lest we say this fic didn't turn out much like the movie - I listened to 'life of the party' on repeat while writing this, so you can thank Shawn Mendes for the angst and disappointing lack of Kenny Fisher-quality jokes. 
> 
> Endless thanks goes to Le for their enthusiasm and tireless work in making this fic readable and a million times better than it would have been without their advice and support <3
> 
> Title is from "Only You" by Yazoo. To maximise enjoyment of this story, I recommend listening to it on repeat.
> 
> See the end notes for CWs.

“For what it’s worth, I still think this is a ridiculous idea,” Niall said off-hand, kicking a stone onto the road as they walked down the sidewalk.

Harry sighed and gripped at the envelope burning a hole in his pocket. This wasn’t the first time Niall had tried to talk him out of it. “Too bad. I’m doing it.”

Niall huffed. “H, you’ll never see him again after tonight. It’s not worth it.”

Harry stopped short, a dejected look on his face. “Harsh.”

Niall rounded on him to grab at Harry’s elbow. “I’m sorry, dude, it’s just… do you really think there’s any point in doing this?”

Harry bowed his head but started to walk again. “I know you think it’s stupid but you don’t– you don’t _get_ it, the way I just know that there’s something there.”

Niall nodded sympathetically, the same reaction he always had when Harry started talking about Louis. Harry knew he sounded like a broken record, having recounted the story to Niall at least once a week since sophomore year, when, that fateful day, Louis had started at their school. Although it was now the end of senior year, summer upon them, Harry had never wavered in his devotion.

Harry continued, “It’s my last chance. If I don’t tell him now, I’ll never know what we could have been.” 

Harry had been infatuated with Louis since the morning Louis had started at Lawrence Park, and he’d played that moment over again in his head. Niall had long since given up trying to distract Harry when he talked about it — could probably recite it just as well as Harry after all these years.

 _It was the first day of school, sophomore year. First time in history that my bike had run a flat so I’d had to walk. If I’d arrived on time, I’d have missed him. But as it was, I was the first person in Lawrence Park High to set eyes on Louis Tomlinson. Then, I’m sitting in class when out of all the classrooms in the entire school, he walks into mine! And where does the teacher sit him? Right next to me! Now, up until then, I could’ve written this off to coincidence. But then I see he’s wearing a band shirt from a concert_ – _the very same concert that I’d been to the previous week! No other way to explain it. It was fate, Niall. Fate!_

“I don’t know about you but I really believe that there's one person out there for everyone, Niall. For me, it’s Louis.”

Of course, in the years since Louis had transferred to Lawrence Park, Harry had gotten to know Louis from afar. He’d seen the way Louis kicked the ball around the soccer field with burning intensity, the way he’d raise his hand in English but never in Math. Harry never failed to notice the confidence with which Louis would strut down the halls, laughing with his bros. But even arm in arm with the prettiest girl in school, Harry would also see the way Louis’ smile never seemed to reach his eyes.

Through the grapevine, Harry had heard Louis would be going out West for college. He was leaving for California the day after tomorrow.

Harry squeezed the letter for courage. Truthfully, he’d written it and re-written it dozens of times since he’d first put pen to paper at the start of the year, when it was obvious everything was going to change. Countless times over the years, Niall had urged him to strike up a friendship with Louis for real, and he’d tried, sort of. That first day, just as Harry had been about to introduce himself, ask Louis about his shirt, he’d been interrupted. His heart had sunk because it had been _Eleanor Calder_ , the prettiest and most popular girl in school.

Since then, Louis had always surrounded by a coterie of cool kids, the kind of seething soul-suckers who drained a little of Louis’ light every day. Louis had never stood a chance and neither had Harry. But be that as it may, Harry’s time had nearly run out; it was now or never.

Niall groaned as the house came into view. It was early, only about ten o’clock, but teenagers were already spilling out of the party into the front yard, the boom from the speakers reaching all the way around the block.

“Would we even be here if you didn’t have to deliver your love letter? Ever heard of email, H?”

Harry snorted loudly. “Snob. We couldn’t all get into Dartmouth. Anyway, ever heard of something called romance?”

Niall grunted again in response. Niall had had a checkered love life throughout high school, girlfriends never lasting very long. He was cute enough but small in stature, a shortcoming he more than made up for with cutting sarcasm, and although he could be intimidating, his honesty sometimes brutal, he was never uncaring and had been Harry’s best friend since junior high. Niall wanted to be a defence lawyer and Harry had no problem saying Niall would be genuinely terrifying once he got there.

“Who knows,” Harry said with a wry smile, “maybe even you’ll get some tonight.”

Niall scoffed. “Unlikely.”

Harry led the way as they pushed the front door open. Immediately, they were hit with the sounds, sights and smells of the most raucous party of their senior year. Inside, the music was deafening, some commercial RnB song blaring out of the speakers. The living room already smelt like beer, no doubt due to the couple of bros doing keg stands next to the host’s parents’ elegant cream sofa. There were kids everywhere in various states of drunkenness, chaotic and loud with shouts of laughter, Solo cups being thwacked together in celebration, sloshing shitty beer or cheap mixed spirits and soda straight onto the floor.

“Drink?” Harry gestured towards the kitchen. Niall rolled his eyes, mouth turned in disgust, but he followed along.

Harry filled a cup halfway up with something brown and insipid, probably Keystone or Miller, PBR if he was lucky. Niall surveyed the half-empty liquor handles with disdain but poured himself a couple of fingers of bourbon which he sipped, neat, like he was particularly sophisticated even though Harry could see he was trying not to gag. “Don’t be an asshole,” Harry said fondly but Niall just made a face.

“Let’s go find lover boy, then,” Niall said and Harry blanched, whipping his head around in case anyone heard, but of course their classmates were far too wasted to care what they were saying.

Harry wasn’t ready yet, not enough liquid courage but also never ready enough for rejection. It wasn’t that he wasn’t sure he and Louis were meant to be; he’d known that from day one. But still, he wanted to time his moment because Louis would undoubtedly be a little fragile tonight.  
After all, he’d recently become single for the first time since the Fall he’d started at Lawrence Park.

It was _the_ gossip of graduation season, all told, specifically because it had come as such as a surprise. Although most kids were realistic about the idea of high school sweethearts, knew some would try but fail to hold it together long distance through college, _everyone_ thought that if any couple might succeed, it would be Louis and Eleanor. Of course, Harry hadn’t believed that but as time ticked down to graduation, there’d been no sign of trouble in paradise. Until there was.

The rumours had travelled through the ceremony like wildfire, _Eleanor Calder dumped Louis Tomlinson the morning of graduation, can you believe???_ and Harry had felt a seed of hope sprout in his heart at the news. He’d barely seen Louis at graduation, he was a flash of navy and gold like everyone else as he’d taken the stage. Harry remembered as a hush had come over the crowd when Louis’ name had been called but there’d been so sign of sadness in Louis’ eyes, they were just… empty.

Harry jostled his way through the crowd the kitchen. Out of the corner of his eye, he spied Liam Payne and his merry band of meatheads. Liam was built like a Mack truck and perpetually wore a blandly warm expression that made him seem particularly dense. Still, Liam was nice enough.

Next to Liam was Shawn, all six-foot-two of Canadian goodness, hair floppy and a face like an angel. Shawn was a demon on the ice and the girls at Lawrence Park fell over themselves to date him. Unfortunately for them, Shawn wasn’t particularly good at commitment.

“Ugh,” Niall said, spotting Shawn, “let’s get out of here before I choke on the toxic stench of Mendes’ cologne.”

Harry smiled to himself. For a smart, level-headed guy, Niall knew how to hold a grudge and he’d held one towards Shawn for years. Harry had asked about it once but hadn’t gleaned much more than the fact Niall and Shawn had been fast friends when Shawn’s family had moved in next door. Shawn had been co-opted by the cool kids not long after and hadn’t spoken to Niall much afterwards; it was still a sore spot, apparently.

“Yeah, let’s walk around.”

They drifted downstairs into the den where Eleanor Calder held court, perched gracefully on the edge of a leather couch, and Harry heard her voice, silky and sweet, before he saw her. Calder by name, colder by nature, Harry had always thought. Even though it was petty, it was true because although she was the most popular girl in school, she was an ice queen. Eleanor was tall and poised, always dressed beautifully, and on face value, was perfectly polite to everyone. Only, Harry could tell Eleanor was one of those girls who wasn’t used to being told no, nevermind that she’d kept Louis from him for almost four years. Harry was aware his feelings on Eleanor weren’t exactly subjective.

Heading outside via the sliding door, Harry’s gaze landed on Zayn Malik and the two guys he hung around with. Harry was sure Zayn was the kind of genius that shacked up with supermodels as soon as the importance of high school popularity contests was forgotten. “Like that guy in Romy and Michele’s High School Reunion!” Harry had told Niall, laughing, but Niall had given him a quizzical, slightly judgemental look; he hadn’t understood the reference.

It was a surprise to see Zayn here, even though the invitation had been opened up to their entire senior class. Not only was Zayn not much of a joiner but he’d spent most of high school being actively hostile towards anything requiring school spirit. Although Harry didn’t like to speak ill of people, Zayn definitely had a chip on his shoulder.

Finally, they made their way out onto the deck. In the pool, a group of girls with bouncy ponytails in bikinis threw a beach ball between them. A guy and a girl were making out in the hot tub, steam failing to hide the obvious groping going on underneath the water. A bunch of rather unpromising guys in Hawaiian shirts sat nearby, trying to look like they weren’t watching them.

“This is weird,” Niall muttered at his side.

“Yeah, let’s go back inside.”

Harry squeezed in next to Niall on the cream sofa, narrowly avoiding getting kicked in the face by one of the keg stand bros, Xander something. In front of them, someone had already dropped a jello shot into a bowl of Cheetos, orange crumbs clinging to the green blob.

Niall wrinkled his nose. “That is so gross, like it’s actually making me s–”

Harry didn’t hear the rest of it because then, the door swung open, and there he was.

Harry didn’t want to say that Louis took his breath away every time, but truthfully, he _did_ because Harry thought he was just… perfect. Louis was slight, shortish and fine-framed, with delicately masculine features that Harry thought made him both cute and sexy at the same time. He had model’s cheekbones, a smile that was pure sunshine, and his eyes, well, Harry liked to think he knew a lot about Louis because of what he saw in his penetrating gaze. If he looked desperately unhappy about Eleanor, Harry couldn’t see it.

Niall rolled his eyes. “Oh Jesus.” Then, “I can’t believe he came.”

“Fuck off,” Harry snapped at him but by the time he turned back to the door, Louis was gone.

**

“Isn’t this a little mean?” Ant looked up from the run-sheet Zayn had meticulously prepared for that evening.

Zayn smarted. “Mean like when Andy Samuels told everyone you had colitis and Ms Johnson asked in front of the whole school if you’d shit your pants on the camping trip? Mean like when Mendes sneezed in Danny’s face and gave him the flu just before midterms?”

Ant grimaced but Danny nodded enthusiastically. “Or Zayn do you remember when Liam–”

“Of course I remember!” Zayn cut him off, voice uncharacteristically high. “We don’t need to reflect on that now!”

Zayn spread the papers between them as they sat in a corner of the backyard. The grass was slightly dewy even though the weather was warm and the writing on the pages started to blur a little as the moisture soaked through.

“Ok, one more time then. We wait until they’re wasted, then I’ll convince them to come outside. Where are you gonna be, D?”

Danny looked at him dimly.

“Read the plans!” Zayn cried, a little hysterical.

Danny held the paper to his face, the ink blurry with moisture. “Uhhh…”

Zayn glared at him.

Danny squinted. “Behind the shed! Got it.”

“You and Ant will be waiting inside, here.” Zayn pointed to a diagram. “When they open the door, Ant, you spray them with the adhesive we prepared in chem lab. And Danny, you throw the glitter.” Zayn grinned wickedly. “They’ll be digging that shit out of places for _months_.”

Danny and Ant chuckled nervously. Zayn was passionate about a lot of things, and had accomplished a lot, but he had never felt so _desperate_ to get one up on the guys who had made their lives hell. The overt bullying had stopped in sophomore year when the principal had suspended Samuels for tripping Ant in the cafeteria. But even after that, life wasn’t easy, and Zayn had never forgotten the way his cheeks had burned when Liam–

 _Ugh_ , Zayn reflected. That spot was still too sore to prod at. Instead of being actually fearful, Zayn had just spent the rest of high school enduring the crushing weight of otherness. His classmates all knew; he was too smart, too quiet, too odd. He felt like a dichotomy too; good-looking, certainly if the attention he received from girls was anything to go by, but painfully shy in a way that made other kids think that he thought he was too good for them. But that wasn’t true at all, they just didn’t know he’d struggled to make a friend since he’d found Ant and Danny in day-care and never let go.

Ant snapped his fingers, waking Zayn from his daydream. “Z, you with us?”

Zayn shook his head to clear his thoughts. Ant was right; eyes on the prize, Malik, eyes on the prize.

**

Inside, Louis was busy wishing he was anywhere else.

“Seriously man, forget about her. Who wants a girlfriend in college, anyway?” Shawn chugged his beer as he made feeble attempts to make Louis feel better.

Liam nodded. “Bro.”

Louis wrinkled his brow; he supposed that was meant to signify Liam agreed.

“Seriously guys, it’s fine. I’m over it.”

Shawn smiled weakly as if he wasn’t sure if he should keep going. “And El’s like… New Hampshire hot. UCLA will be crawling with like, _Cali_ hotties. _Blonde_ and _tanned_ , and like, _way_ hotter than–”

“Shawn, please, I’m begging you. Just shut the fuck up.”

Louis rounded his shoulders and stared into his untouched cup, the dark liquid as brooding as he felt.

Liam placed a gentle hand on Louis’ shoulder. “If it’s too much, we could get out of here? Go get food?”

Louis could feel Shawn tense beside him, no doubt praying Louis would agree to stay. “Nah, it’s ok, you guys enjoy yourselves,” Louis said, putting Shawn out of his misery.

Shawn sighed with audible relief before Louis continued, “I’ll just… mingle, I guess.”

Liam frowned at him but didn’t say a word. The only thing worse than public humiliation was pity, Louis thought miserably. He wasn’t cut up about his relationship ending, not really. Truthfully, he was surprised it took El as long as it had. And Lord knows, he was never going to be the one to do it, no matter hard it got.

Now here he was, at the biggest party of the year, with his friends hovering around like he was going to dissolve into tears at any moment. If only they knew.

He had two choices; get shitfaced and show everyone how much he really didn’t care or disappear quietly into the night, never to see most of his classmates every again. Only, he didn’t think anyone would believe it if he pretended not to care about the breakup and would probably interpret him getting tanked was a cry for help. In many ways, it probably would be. And although option two was appealing, a streak of pride didn’t want to give everyone the satisfaction of seeing him run away with his tail between his legs.

Of course, there was always option three but… that was the nuclear option.

“Are you all packed?” Bless Liam for changing the subject.

Louis shrugged. “Yeah mostly, I’m just looking forward to going, you know? Training starts soon so it’ll be good to meet the team.”

Liam smiled. Louis liked Liam and Liam had been a good friend. But it was hard for Louis to be friends with people when they didn’t really know who he was, didn’t really know _him_ , and probably never would. And it was even harder for Louis to open up once he’d slowly felt himself transforming into someone even he didn’t recognise, ever since he’d started at Lawrence Park High.

He sighed and swirled his drink around in his cup, forcing a smile. Anyway, it hardly mattered anymore because he only had to fake it one more night, even if pretending for every additional second felt like it might kill him.

**

Harry sat on the sofa in a daze, Niall at his side. Just five minutes ago he’d felt brave, or at least determined. However, seeing Louis had rendered him a quivering mess, hands shoved under his thighs.

“Did he look sad to you?” Harry asked, tight-lipped.

Niall tried to school his face into one of compassion but he didn’t quite succeed. “Uh, maybe? He kinda just looked normal to me.”

Harry shook his head. “No, there’s something going on, I can tell.”

“Yeah, he just got dumped, H.”

Harry snatched the drink from Niall’s fingers and drained it. “It’s not that, he’s looked like this for a while now.”

Niall shrugged. “Senior year is stressful, man. He’s probably just under a lot of pressure, like everybody else.”

“I just wish I could help him.” Harry sighed and looked to his lap.

Niall gently took the cup from his hands and placed it on the coffee table. “H… don’t take this the wrong way but do you really want to do this?” Harry looked up at him, questioning, but Niall forged on, “I just don’t want to see you get hurt. Let’s be real, you don’t know him–”

“I do!” Harry snapped, then, softer, “I really feel like I do, Niall.”

“I know, H. I’m just saying, you don’t know how he’s going to react, and like, he’s probably not in a good place right now.”

Harry scooted over and pressed himself into Niall’s side, leaning his head on Niall’s shoulder. “But I love him.”

Niall wrapped an arm around him. “I know.”

Harry exhaled, trying to think of all the reasons why he had to do this, trying to think of a way to make Niall understand. “I have to do this. Even if it doesn’t lead to anything. I have to know. I _want_ him to know that someone sees him.”

Niall ruffled his hair and sat up, offering Harry a small smile. “You’re really not going to be talked out of this, are you?”

Harry smiled. “Nah.”

“Ok Casanova, I need to pee. You ok sitting here for a few?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Bring me back a beer though, would you?”

Niall nodded before disappearing off into the crowd.

Harry pulled the letter out of his pocket. It was a bit battered but otherwise unscathed, Louis’ name written in simple script on the front. He ran his thumb over the name; Niall was right, he stood to lose a lot but he couldn’t believe Louis would make fun of him for his feelings. He just had to bite the bullet and then deal with the result, whatever that was.

“Harry, right?” A tall blonde girl slid in next to him. She was pretty, with smooth skin and bright eyes, and she wore a serene expression on her face. Harry wondered if she was part of Eleanor’s extended set.

Harry swiftly wedged the letter down into the couch cushion, between his thigh and the couch arm. “Oh, hi.”

“We had Bio together, do you remember?”

Her face was familiar but Harry wracked his brain for her name. Cara? Candace? _Fuck_.

“Camille.” Camille smiled, unoffended.

“Sorry,” Harry replied sheepishly, wiping his hands on his corduroys before extending a hand to shake. “I don’t know if we’ve ever officially met.”

Camille leant in to shake his hand, her hands delicate but her grip firm. She held a cup in her other hand but wasn’t drunk, maybe that stage between sober and tipsy where everything just felt warm.

“It’s a shame we didn’t get to know each other better.” Camille fluttered her eyelashes and her cheeks flushed pink. Harry supposed this move worked like a charm on most guys; unfortunately for Camille, it was doing absolutely nothing for him.

Harry immediately wished he had a drink to sip, something to do with his hands where they lay uselessly on his thighs. “Yeah,” he drawled, not really sure what to say, “it’s a bit like that.”

Camille edged in further still, folding her legs artfully until her knee leant on Harry’s leg. His brain was already on alert, ready to send the Mayday signal. Girls liked him well enough but in all four years of high school, this sort of thing had only happened once or twice.

Camille tossed her hair behind her shoulder, exposing the curve of her neck and Harry swallowed a lump in his throat. “Got any plans for the summer?”

“Uh,” Harry replied, suddenly fixated for all the wrong reasons by the expanse of bare skin across Camille’s shoulders and where it travelled down beneath her top. “Not really.” He cringed at the way his voice went higher at the end, like a question.

Camille must have taken it as encouragement because she smiled and leant forward, giving Harry an eyeful, before reaching a hand to place high up on his thigh, her fingertips reaching determinedly between his legs. She smelt sweet. Cloying. “We can change that, if–”

“I’m gay,” Harry blurted out, “Like… fully gay.” Jesus, what a trainwreck.

“Oh.” Camille recoiled.

Harry looked her square in the eye before the flight response _finally_ kicked in. “I have to go.”

**

“It’s not that I’m _sad_ ,” Eleanor said slowly, “it’s just the end of an era, you know?”

Her friends all nodded, sipping vodka and sugar-free cranberry as they huddled around her on the huge sofa in the den, alone. They’d long kicked out any miscreants or eavesdroppers including a group of unimpressed guys from the marching band who’d just wanted to play pool, irritated they still had to play by the same stupid social rules even though school was over. Eleanor had hissed at them and they’d grumbled about it but made a hasty getaway.

“You were together for _ages_ ,” Maxie supplied uselessly and the girls all nodded.

“Exactly, and like,” Eleanor continued, “high school is over. We’ll be doing different things, meeting new people.”

“You don’t want to be tied down, that makes sense,” Alana said, stroking Eleanor’s hair down her back. 

Eleanor shifted minutely out of Alana’s smothering grasp, tossing her hair behind her shoulder. “I loved him, I still love him, but it’s kid stuff, you know?”

“Right,” Megan agreed, “like, we’re adults now. No one stays with their high school boyfriend forever.”

Eleanor smiled. “Exactly what I’ve been saying. It’s fun having a boyfriend in high school but we have all summer before we leave for college. We don’t want to have to spend the whole summer having to worry about what they want to do, where they want to go.”

Alana went wide-eyed but she didn’t speak.

Maxie nodded. “My cousin goes to UNH, she knows about the best parties.”

Megan leant in. “And there’s literally no point going to parties with college guys unless you’re single, right Maxie?”

Maxie giggled and Eleanor pursed her lips, gloss rendering them plush and tacky. “I’m just saying, we could have a whole lot more fun, if…” Eleanor trailed off, a smile curling at her lips.

Megan cut in, exuberant and chatty with booze. “You know what? I’m so sick of Jordan telling me what to do, like he wants us to go to Cape Cod with his parents this summer… ugh, as _if_.”

“And Ryan thinks we should go to Cabo but I’d much rather hang out with you guys, just us girls!” Maxie added.

Eleanor’s eyes flashed as she turned to her left. “Lani?” She raised an eyebrow.

Alana exhaled in a rush of breath. “El, I don’t know… you know Connor wants us to get a place together. Live off campus. He’s going to Europe for a month, but after…” Alana avoided Eleanor’s eyes.

“That’s fine,” Eleanor replied coolly. “If you wanna be lame high school sweethearts until you’re both washed up with two kids at twenty five and have only ever had sex with each other, then I won’t stop you.”

“El, _come on_ ,” Alana pleaded, a little horrified, “we can still have fun…”

“I said it’s fine, Lani.” Eleanor tossed her mane of her behind her dismissively. “Me and the girls won’t bother you anymore. You and Connor can do your own thing, right girls?”

Megan and Maxie nodded eagerly, Megan throwing Alana a filthy look.

Eleanor rose to her feet, extricating herself from where the girls crowded around. “Guess we might see you on campus in the fall.”

With one final pointed look, Eleanor headed to the door, Megan and Maxie trailing close behind.

**

Niall traipsed up the stairs, dodging a drunk girl crying on her friend’s shoulder and a dude playing Fortnite on his phone.

“For fuck’s sake,” he muttered to himself. He couldn’t wait to head to Hanover and meet new people, learn new things, feel part of something in a way he’d never felt at Lawrence Park. Sure, he was involved in about a billion activities; model UN, jazz band, French club, golf. But besides Harry, he’d never met anyone at LPH that truly felt part of his tribe. Early on, he’d thought he and Shawn could have been close, but then that hadn’t exactly turned out the way he’d hoped.

Sometimes Niall wondered if he’d stopped trusting people after Shawn but he tried not to dwell on it too long because it seemed a bit pathetic. Lengthy introspection was more Harry’s domain.

Niall wandered down the dark hallway towards the bathroom. It was always weird attending ragers in people’s parents’ houses. There were family photos lining the walls, the doors ajar to their little siblings’ bedrooms. Niall had never had the opportunity to host a party at his Dad’s house; he wondered if he had, whether anyone would have come.

The light was on in the bathroom although the door was only partway closed. As soon as he pushed the door open, he understood why.

“Oh God, sorry, sorry.” Niall covered his eyes because Shawn stood at the basin, his mouth sucking a hickey onto some girl’s neck, his hand up her shirt, and Niall wasn’t sure but the girl’s hand looked dangerously close to Shawn’s crotch. Niall tried to back out of the room but with his eyes shut, just walked into a rack of towels, sending them cascading to the floor. “Fuck.”

Perhaps spooked by the ruckus, the girl yanked her top down and booked it out of the room.

“Hey, wait!” Shawn called as Niall tried to follow but instead of walking through the door, flustered, Niall walked straight into it, shutting it with a slam. “Fucking Jesus.” Niall held a hand to his forehead where he was sure a welt the size of Canada was already forming.

Shawn was still staring at him and Niall couldn’t fail to notice the way Shawn’s lips were still swollen from kissing, his shirt unbuttoned down to his belly. Niall's eyes followed the edge of his shirt down to his belt—unbuckled—to the fly of his jeans, where—

Niall gulped, tearing his eyes away, wondering if he’d ever get the image out of his brain.

Meanwhile, Shawn had the gall to act legitimately concerned. “Shit, are you ok?”

“Are you for real right now? This is your fault!” Niall rubbed his head. “Ow.”

Shawn’s worried frown turned into a scowl. “Why are you always such an asshole? I’m trying to help you!”

“Like you’ve helped me so far?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Shawn’s expression was soft, looked almost hurt.

Niall huffed, “Nothing.”

Shawn didn’t push it, just walked over to the bathtub and fished around the assorted bottles and cans of cheap beer and wine cooler to grab a huge chunk of ice. Picking up a towel from the pile on the ground, he wrapped the ice in the towel and held it out towards Niall’s head.

Niall flinched, grabbing the bundle from Shawn’s hands and holding it to the bruise.

“Suit yourself, then.” Shawn shrugged, heading towards the door.

“Thanks,” Niall muttered. Humiliated, he just wanted Shawn to leave as fast as possible.

Niall heard Shawn turn the knob; once, twice, a tug, then a rattle.

“Did you lock this?”

“Huh?”

“Did you lock the door?” Shawn turned to face him. Jesus, Niall had barely looked at Shawn, taken a few moments to _really_ look at him, since they were kids. Having his fill now while they were alone in an enclosed room was a bit much, really.

“You mean when I smashed it with my head? Did I lock it then?” Niall snapped.

Shawn sighed, a great exasperated breath. “Yes, _sorry_ ,” he said through gritted teeth. “What I meant to say was, _I can’t open this fucking door._ ”

“What do you mean you can’t open the door?” Niall pulled the ice away from his face and his forehead pulsed hot and cold.

“I mean, I can’t–” Shawn huffed, “You try.”

Niall shuffled over and tried the handle. Although he could turn it, it was like the mechanism wasn’t attached to anything. He yanked the door with all his weight but then if Shawn hadn’t been able to spring it open at his size, Niall didn’t know what hope he had.

Until someone came to rescue them, they were trapped. Niall tried not to panic.

“It’s ok,” Shawn said, taking a deep breath as if he was reassuring himself as well as Niall, “I’ll just call Liam.” Shawn pulled his phone from his pocket, then, “Fuck, no signal. Can you call him?”

Niall’s phone had one bar of reception but when he rang Liam’s number, there was no answer.

“Here,” Shawn passed his phone over to show Niall another number, “try Louis.”

Niall held the phone to his ear until the call rang out. “Still nothing, must be too loud downstairs.”

Shawn set his jaw, stoic. “It’s fine. Someone will notice I’m missing.”

Niall rolled his eyes. “Bit full of yourself, aren’t you? And they won’t if they think you’re off banging some chick.”

“At least I’m getting some,” Shawn shot back unkindly.

Niall rubbed his eyes; it was going to be a long night if someone didn’t find them soon.

**

Louis’ phone vibrated in his pocket but he couldn’t think of a single person he wanted to talk to. He’d found himself a solitary spot on the living room sofa away from where Liam and Andy were doing tequila shots in the kitchen, El was having D&Ms with her friends in the den. 

He thumbed through a fishing magazine that he found on a side table, wondering if he’d made enough of an effort now that he could plead off sick and go home. It was one of those nights where no matter how much he drank, he still felt depressingly sober and the taste of beer had made his mouth taste sour.

On the other couch, a nerdy couple was sucking face and it was so disturbing Louis had to look away. He wondered if he and El ever looked that revolting. He thinks they probably did, like some kind of confronting performance art. Not that the rest of their class ever looked that closely, just took it all on a face value: a hot girl, a reasonably handsome guy, a done deal made in hetero heaven. It was all so boring it made him want to scream, but of course he didn’t.

Louis wanted to move but he had nowhere better to go. He reconsidered playing with his phone if only to occupy him until he could leave. He rolled to his side to pull his phone from his back pocket; there was a missed call from an unknown number so he cleared the notification without a second thought. It wasn’t until he was immersed in his fifth game of Candy Crush that something caught his eye–a flash of white between the couch arm and the cushion, a piece of paper maybe–and he yanked it free from where it was wedged in the couch. And… no fucking way, because it literally had his name all over it, _Louis_ written on the envelope. His heart skip a beat.

He whipped his head around, clutching the envelope tightly lest someone swoop in to reclaim it. But no one did, and it was addressed to him–the only Louis in school–so he did what any normal person would do and flipped it over to open it.

Louis’ heart raced as he read through it because it was a _love letter_ , plain and simple. He’d never– no one had _ever_ said things like that about him like that, and it was quietly terrifying because who was actually brave enough to lay their heart open like that, right on paper, and leave it for him to find. But it was so earnest, so honest, so kind and so fucking heartfelt that it made something long dormant flutter in his chest. _Someone_ saw him as the person he could be, wanted to be. Someone wanted him because of _who_ he was, not what he was.

Not only that, but it was signed; _Harry_. It wasn’t just someone, it was _a guy_. Not a guy he knew, but still. Without really trying, this guy had seen something he’d tried so desperately to keep hidden, a light he’d kept dimmed for so long he wasn’t sure it could ever shine again. But _Harry_ had seen it and believed it could. Not to mention the obvious–a guy _wanted_ him. In that way. It sent a whisper of a thrill up his spine. He’d thought about what it’d be like when he finally did it, of course he had, but he’d never imagined it might happen here, in suburban Manchester, New Hampshire. Fuck, it felt like he’d wanted– _waited_ –forever.

He smiled to himself, drawing his lower lip in with his teeth, feeling energised for the first time all night. He folded the letter and put it protectively into his pocket. It wasn’t late but this party was terrible and he could only hope Harry hadn’t left yet.

**

Zayn did his best to mingle but felt painfully out of place, a sheep in wolf’s clothing, as it were. No one seemed to be paying him any attention, except for a girl in the corner of the kitchen who kept making heart eyes at him. It was awkward.

He wanted to grab a beer but was terrified someone would call him out for being the horrible impostor he was. But beer was what he came in for, and the longer he lurked without doing anything, talking to anyone, the more likely it was that someone was going to ask him what the fuck he was doing there in the first place.

“Uh,” he mumbled uselessly, approaching the keg, “what kind of beer is this?” His words sounded embarrassingly false and the guy manning the tap gave him a quizzical look before shoving a cup in his hand. “Good one, dude,” the guy replied without any trace of sarcasm. Zayn breathed a sigh of relief as the guy filled his cup with barely-fizzy pale ale.

Zayn chugged his first cup in short order. It was bitter and warm and pretty disgusting but Liam and his moron friends were never going to believe their ruse if he was stone cold sober. He had to make at least some attempt at blending in. By the time he’d started on his second cup, he’d been rescued by a guy who recognised him from film club. Joel was a pain in the ass and wouldn’t stop talking about Scorsese as if he was some kind of intellectual but he kept refilling Zayn’s cup until Zayn was well and truly buzzed, bumping the doorframe as he made his way into the dining room.

“Hey you!” a ginger-haired guy shouted his way and Zayn had to do the mortifying, _who me?_ dance, twisting around on the spot to make sure the guy was talking to him. “Yeah you, get in here and cover for me, I have to piss.”

Zayn eyed the game of beer pong set up on the antique dining table with horror. Not only was he the least athletically‑minded human being on the planet but he really didn’t think he needed more alcohol yet, not when he was already losing his faculties, and with it, his resolve.

Before he could feign off or amble away, a tall guy manhandled him into place. “Ok, we’re winning,” tall guy said, “so don’t fuck this up.” Zayn didn’t have the heart to tell him that was exactly what was going to happen.

Only it didn’t. By the miracle of drunken skill, he landed make after make, even managing to sober up a little. Their opponents, a round-faced guy and a dark-haired girl, on the other hand, were getting progressively more wasted.

“I’m tapping out,” the girl said, gagging on a final cup of stale beer.

The round-faced guy threw his hands in the air in frustration but the girl wasn’t swayed, and Zayn’s partner was ready to declare victory, until–

“I’ll play.”

Zayn didn’t have to look up from the rows of cups to know who the voice belonged to. Zayn gulped.

“Ayyy!” Zayn’s partner rejoiced but Zayn wanted to sink into the floor.

“That alright with you?” Liam looked him square in the eye and Zayn could only offer a single nod.

Liam was amazing at all ball sports and Zayn was soon gulping down cup after cup, stubbornly trying to convince himself he could recover the game again. It didn’t help that every time he looked across the table, Liam was staring at him. He didn’t look mocking but there was something about his gaze that made Zayn feel vulnerable, exposed. When, on the winning play, Liam brought the ball to his lips, Zayn couldn’t not be transfixed by the pout of Liam’s lips against its smooth surface. God, he was _really_ drunk.

Liam and the round-faced guy, Stan, won easily, not least because Zayn was horribly distracted.

“I’m gonna…” Zayn mumbled, trailing off as he ambled toward the kitchen for a drink of water, thinking he might even splash some on his face because his cheeks were on _fire_. Of course, just as he was almost in the clear, he stumbled over a stray bottle rolling loose against the baseboards, narrowly avoiding falling.

“Woah,” Liam cried, at his side in an instant, a firm arm around his back and the other hand gripping his elbow. “I got you.”

Zayn wrestled out of his grasp; having Liam that close was disconcerting enough let alone with what felt like fifty beers on board. “I’m fine,” Zayn muttered through gritted teeth, wrenching his arm away.

“You wanna get some air?”

Zayn wanted to do nothing less but he didn’t have the words to refuse. It didn’t make sense why Liam was being so nice to him, and years of being treated like dirt had taught him better than to accept kindness from people like Liam. Uninhibited by the alcohol or perhaps spurred on by the faintest glimmer of hope, despite his reservations, Zayn went.

As soon as they headed out to the deck, Liam disappeared and Zayn was quietly relieved that Liam ghosting him was all he had to worry about, unless Liam had locked him out or something similarly embarrassing. Only Liam returned before Zayn could really start to worry about that possibility, sliding the screen door behind him quietly. Liam’s movements were lethargic but not sloppy and Zayn could tell Liam was drunk but in the warm, soft way that popular culture told him happened sometimes. It was endearing in a way that Zayn didn’t want to question too closely.

Liam sat down next to him on a step. “So, you don’t usually drink much, do you?” He smiled and Zayn still didn’t feel like Liam was making fun of him. Although, Zayn was smart enough to know Liam’s idea of humour was much more insidious.

Turning to face him made his head hurt, so Zayn just stared straight ahead, looking into the now‑mostly empty backyard. “What do you think?”

It was a rhetorical question but Liam answered anyway. “It’s ok not to.”

Zayn couldn’t read the play. “Why are you being nice to me?”

Liam scoffed but his indignance seemed forced. “A guy can’t just be nice?”

“I’m fine, you can go back inside now.” Zayn looked into his lap. “Thanks for the water.” Zayn couldn’t afford to get distracted, not least by the most meagre of olive branches. But Liam didn’t push it, just nodded slowly and headed back through the screen door.

**

“I’m honestly surprised no one has tried to break in yet, get their booze,” Shawn mused idly, tossing a roll of toilet paper into the air and catching it smoothly, long arm outstretched. Niall couldn’t help but be irritated by Shawn’s dexterity and the ease with which he did everything. Shawn was social, athletic, good-looking; just an asshole generally.

“Can you stop that?” Niall snapped.

Shawn missed the toilet roll as it fell from the air and they both watched as it escaped into the corner. When it came to a stop, Shawn turned to face Niall, his face stern. “Jesus, if we’re stuck in here, can you at least try and not be a dick the whole time?”

Niall rolled his eyes. “Wow, ok.” He was being petulant, he knew, but being around Shawn in close quarters like this was pure torture, Shawn just _there_ , larger than life and so painfully… _Shawn_.

Shawn grimaced. “What is your fucking problem, man?” His hands gripped the sides of his knees, long legs folded up where he sat against the tub, but Niall just ignored him. Instead, he walked over to fish a beer from the icy water, pulling the ring to crack the can, pressure spurting from the top aggressively. Niall flung himself back down on the closed toilet, lips pursed in a tight line, his eyes staring straight ahead.

“Whatever,” Shawn muttered to himself, grabbing himself a drink and tipping it back.

Niall took a deep breath but couldn’t help the bile rising in his throat, seething. He wasn’t going to let Shawn have the last word. “I can’t believe you think _you’ve_ got a right to be pissed off,” Niall blurted out before he could stop himself.

Shawn just stared, then said, “ _What?_ ”

Called out on it, Niall snorted indignantly. “I shouldn’t have to explain this to you, Mendes.”

Shawn slammed his drink on the tile with a clatter, jumping to his feet. “You clearly fucking do, _Horan_.”

His name was delivered with such snark that Niall was taken aback. When they’d been friends, Shawn had always called him Niall but he’d said _Horan_ now with much more bitterness than the impersonal bluster of teenage boys, too scared to use each other’s first names lest they look too much like they give a shit. The coldness jabbed at his heart. Shawn’s attention had always been too much, and now it was no different. “Don’t fucking talk to me,” Niall spat, desperately hoping his voice sounded more confident than he felt.

“Fine.”

“ _Good_.”

Shawn slumped back onto the floor, long arms and legs folding themselves gracefully up against the tub once more. He made a show of fiercely texting but threw his phone aside in frustration, “Fucking useless thing.”

Niall couldn’t help himself. “Can’t make it half an hour without constant attention, huh?”

Shawn’s head shot up, staring daggers at him. “Do you ever just shut up?”

Niall licked his lips, itching for a fight. “I’m surprised you even notice me at all.” It was more honest than he’d been going for but he didn’t flinch, staring squarely at Shawn.

Shawn groaned loudly, “You told me to stop talking to you! What the fuck do you want!”

Niall leapt up, the can in his hand crunching as he gripped it tight, the words escaping before he had a chance to think better of it “I want you to fucking apologise!”

Almost imperceptibly, Shawn’s face fell before he steeled himself, got up off the ground and drew himself up to his full height, towering over Niall. “So, that’s what this is about,” he said, voice low and jaw tight.

“Finally, he catches on.” Niall threw his hand in the air theatrically. He had no claim to indignance anymore after laying out his pathetic feelings of hurt and abandonment for Shawn to stomp all over, but bravado was all he had left.

Shawn swallowed but Niall couldn’t tell if his expression signified guilt or just embarrassment. “Look,” Shawn started, running a hand through his hair, “I’m sorry if–”

Niall scoffed but his laughter sounded hollow, even to his own ears. “Don’t you dare humour me, Mendes, not if you don’t mean it.”

“Can you just fucking _listen_ for once in your life?” Shawn blurted out, and Niall’s mouth, in the process of formulating a snarky retort, clamped shut. “I _am_ sorry, ok? But not for what you think I should be sorry for.” Shawn scrubbed his face with his hands, suddenly looking very sober. “I’m sorry that it all turned to shit.”

Shawn looked down at his shoes but Niall could only stare at Shawn’s face, if possible, even more stupidly beautiful than usual for how affected he looked.

Shawn continued, “But it wasn’t my fault that we stopped hanging out.”

Shame and regret pooled in the pit of Niall’s stomach. He gulped, trying to choke them down. “So, what you’re saying is… it was mine?”

Shawn sighed. “I tried to talk to you. Heaps of times, but you ignored me! You just ditched me overnight!”

Niall folded his arms and turned towards the sink, his anger bubbling up again as it always did when he was confronted with the truth. “What was I supposed to do? Be your dirty little secret? Settle for second best?”

“Of course not! But what was _I_ supposed to do? Not hang out with the team? Tell them I was only allowed to hang out with you?” Shawn sounded exasperated and Niall couldn’t pretend he didn’t have a point.

“No, but–” Niall frowned, unable to get the words out.

“Then what, Niall? What?” Shawn shouted. “Why does everything have to be so black and white with you? You’re not even a lawyer yet but you already think if someone’s not with you, they’re against you. It’s too much.”

Shawn’s honesty hit him like a freight train and Niall felt like he was going to crumble. He gripped the sink for leverage but couldn’t look Shawn in the eye. “I’m sorry… Sometimes, I can’t help it,” he said, voice small and bitter. “I guess I just ruined everything.”

Shawn raked his fingers through his hair again, curls standing up. “You didn’t ruin anything. Look, I know school maybe wasn’t what you hoped, but–”

Niall shook his head, interrupting. “Ugh, please don’t.”

Shawn paused. “I admire you.”

Niall was sceptical but he also couldn’t help the smile curling at his lips anyway. “Liar.”

Shawn chuckled, his annoying smile infuriatingly disarming. Niall felt something in his chest loosen. “I do,” Shawn insisted. “You’re going places, Niall Horan, and I feel sorry for anyone who’s gotta go up against you in a courtroom.”

Before Niall could do something stupid like kiss the dumb grin of Shawn’s face, the door shook in its hinges, the knob being yanked from the outside and Shawn threw Niall a sudden, wide-eyed look.

They rushed over, hammering on the door, Shawn yelling “let us out”, and Niall helplessly shouting “we’re stuck in here” through the crack. But it was no use, the door didn’t open, and even after ten minutes, no one returned.

**

“I’m sorry, El,” Maxie whined, “it’s just that… Ryan got us this _amazing_ room overlooking Medano Beach and like, it’s the first time we’re really going to have any time properly alone, and–” Maxie looked over to where Ryan was standing in the kitchen, drunk-eyed, dumb, and gorgeous, snapback sat backwards on his head. “Oh god,” she swooned, “he’s so hot, I just _couldn’t_.”

A muscle in Eleanor’s jaw twitched but she didn’t acknowledge Maxie’s remorse. She turned to her other side. “Megs? You’re loyal, aren’t you?”

Megan chewed at her lip and looked conflicted. “El, I love you, but Jordie’s parents get invited to these fancy parties in the Cape and like… maybe I could do it when we get back?” _Hey babe!_ Jordan boomed from across the room where he had his legs in the air, mid-keg stand. Megan gave him an exaggerated wink.

“Sara says the parties don’t really kick off until a few weeks before the semester starts anyway, so–”

“It’s _fine_ ,” Eleanor cut her off, voice icy. “You guys can go slut it up all summer with those idiots. See if I care.”

Maxie looked like she wanted to do anything but, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively in Ryan’s direction, but Megan elbowed her. “El, you don’t think it might be fun to hold onto Louis just until the fall?” Megan offered bravely.

Eleanor exploded, “He’s leaving, you idiot! What’s the point of doing it long distance just to break up anyway?!”

Megan recoiled as if slapped but Maxie came to her aid. “It’s just that… and don’t take this the wrong way, but… some people are saying that Louis broke up with _you_ and you’re just telling everyone that you dumped him so that–”

“They’re saying _what_?”

Maxie and Megan looked to each other but neither responded, their eyes lowered to avoid Eleanor’s scrutiny.

“ _Maxie_ ,” Eleanor started, voice artificially sweet, and Maxie quivered. “Tell me what they’re saying.”

“They’re saying,” Maxie caved, speaking in a small voice, “that he’d been talking about doing it for ages and that he only waited this long so he didn’t ruin your prom pictures.” Maxie looked like she wanted to sink into the floor.

Eleanor took a deep breath to digest the information, trying desperately to keep her expression neutral.

“But like,” Maxie started again to fill the uncomfortable silence, “he would take you back for sure…”

“Oh, _for sure_ ,” Megan added, nodding.

“… and then everyone would know that he would _never_ dare dump you.”

“Never,” Megan echoed.

“Plus, like,” Maxie’s eyes glinted wickedly, “he’s leaving anyway, right? And college guys… they love a challenge.”

Eleanor’s lips quirked up in a grin. “You’re not as dumb as you look, Max.”

**

Ant eyed him carefully. “Are you alright, dude? You look a little woozy.”

Zayn willed his eyes to focus. “I’m fine.”

Tonight was his last chance to reclaim some semblance of pride. Truthfully–and he wouldn’t even have admitted this to his best friends–it wasn’t even that he wanted to make fun of the guys who had been the source of his torment, Zayn could have gone without that part. More than anything, he wanted to show his classmates that he had game, was a regular guy that deserved fun and friendship just as much as the next person. Then, he planned to head off to college with that newfound confidence and hope things got better from there.

“We don’t have to do this,” Ant continued, “we can just go home and play COD.”

Danny said nothing from the corner, failing to cover up a yawn with his fist.

“ _No_ ,” Zayn insisted. “We can’t just go home with our tails between our legs. We’re never gonna see these dicks again. It’s gotta be now.”

Ant shrugged. “I guess. If it means that much to you.”

“It should mean more to you,” Zayn pouted. The alcohol was hitting him now, rendering his speech slow and movements languid but his determination remained.

Ant smiled. “Alright, then. What the fuck are you doing out here, then? Get back in there.”

Half an hour later, Zayn found himself failing miserably, folded onto the piano bench in the music room, alone. He nursed a drink that was more vodka than juice, and although the spirit burned his throat, he downed it in large mouthfuls. His eyes swam as he tried to read the sheet music laid out on the stand in front of him.

Liam was nearby, across the hall nearby, because with Zayn’s luck of course he was, laughing happily, his brown eyes shining and Zayn couldn’t help stealing glances, hoping his expression looked more like drunk disinterest than the glare that made his brow furrow and his cheeks flame. This plan would never work if Liam knew what was coming. That was if Zayn could remember the plan at all by the end of the night. Fuck, he was wasted. _Get it together,_ he scolded himself.

Oh god, he was coming over. What the fuck was he coming over for? Zayn tried not to panic, his breath catching in his throat. He hiccupped. 

“Having fun?” Liam dangled his cup with middle finger and thumb and Zayn tried not to notice the way they curled elegantly around the rim.

The words escaped before Zayn could stop them. “I’m really fucking drunk,” he blurted out.

Liam snorted with laughter. “Sweet.” Then, “Where are your friends tonight?”

Zayn was surprised by the question, he hadn’t known Liam was even aware he had any. Not that his current showing was particularly convincing, sitting in the corner, like a loner. He sighed; what was he even _doing_ anymore?

Zayn waved the question away with a lethargic hand. “Somewhere. Not really their scene.”

The corners of Liam’s lips curled up in a small smile. “And it’s yours?”

“Fuck off, I’m allowed to be here,” Zayn smarted. Even if Liam hadn’t really seemed like he was trying to get Zayn to leave, his reaction was always to assume the worst.

Liam raised his hands in surrender. “Of course you are.” Liam gestured to the bench. “Mind if I sit?”

Zayn did mind but he found himself shrugging anyway, and Liam lowered himself down beside him. Zayn tried not to think about the inches between them, tried not to stare at the way Liam’s henley draped over his hips and revealed a strip of tanned skin at his back when he leaned forward. Zayn felt sick with trying to wrestle his competing thoughts.

“What is this?” Liam asked, eyeing Zayn’s cup on top of the piano. Before Zayn could argue, Liam grabbed it and gave it a sniff, wincing. “Gross, dude.”

Zayn made an abortive attempt to snatch it from Liam’s hands but even in his drunken state, Liam was far too quick.

“You’ve had heaps,” Liam said, smiling, tipping his chin upwards in a teasing gesture. His cheeks were flushed and his snapback sat at a jaunty angle on his head and Zayn swore Liam wasn’t much better off but he couldn’t disagree. “I’m gonna drink this…” Liam said, confidently taking a sip, and Zayn’s stomach did a little flip. “…And you’re gonna play something for me.”

Zayn gulped; in spite of his best instincts, lifted the fallboard.

**

“Yeah man, Harry. Like, kinda floppy hair, tall… sorta tall…You know, like, _Harry_.”

Louis narrowed his eyes at them: two dudes, blazed to their eyeballs, laid out on loungers on the deck as the party carried on around them. In retrospect, they’d been a poor choice to help him in his search.

“He wears like, shirts, flowy shirts. And he has this, like, beautiful smile.” The guy grinned dopily as his buddy guffawed and punched him in the arm. “ _Gayyyy_.”

Louis raised an eyebrow. “So, he’s sorta tall…”

Stoner-number-one nodded exaggeratedly. “Yeah, kind of.”

Louis looked at them quizzically. “…with _hair_.”

Stoner-number-two grinned. “Yeah.”

“… and he wears shirts _sometimes_.”

The guys nodded some more. “Yeah, man, _Harry_. Gets around with that kid Neil,” one said.

“It’s _Nail_ ,” the other corrected him.

“Nah, I’m pretty sure it’s–”

Louis couldn’t take any more. “Uh, thanks guys. That helps a lot.”

Dejected, Louis headed back indoors, intent on finding one of those kids in yearbook or the student paper who drifted on the periphery of a number of social circles, the kind who ended up being friendly with almost everybody.

In the living room, _success_. “Hey,” Louis called, “Ed!”

With the addition of alcohol, Ed’s usually rosy complexion went full-on tomato, clashing horribly with his hair. It was a sure sign he was completely wasted. “Tommo, my man!” Ed greeted, slapping Louis’ hand. “How’s it hanging?”

Louis shuffled his feet impatiently. “Good, good. I was actually wondering if you could help me with something.” Louis thumbed at the letter, folded snugly in his pocket. “I’m looking for someone, you probably know him, his name’s–”

“Lou-bear?” Even among the din; talking and shouting, loud music blasting from speakers, the voice was unmistakable.

Louis spun to look at her. They’d not made eye contact since graduation when Eleanor had locked eyes with him as he’d descended the dais stairs, diploma in hand.

Just like that, a hush came over the room.

Louis sighed, trying to keep his voice steady for the audience gradually surrounding their exchange. “What do you want, Eleanor?”

“Can we talk?” As ever, her voice was suffocatingly serene.

Fucking trust Eleanor to do this here, now in front of everyone. Louis bristled. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

Eleanor moved into his space and took his hand in hers. “Let’s go somewhere more private.”

Louis wrenched his hand back. “I have nothing else to say to you, Eleanor.”

The crowd _ooohed_ and Louis felt claustrophobic, anxiety mounting as more and more inquiring eyes trained on them. The last thing he wanted was to make a scene. 

“Lou-bear, if we could just–”

“What, Eleanor? What is there to talk about?” He sounded bitter but he was proud of the way his voice didn’t crack at the end.

To her credit, Eleanor looked a little taken aback. “I think I might have made a mistake. If we could just talk privately–”

Feeling bold or reckless, he cut her off, looking her up and down. “Anything you want to say you can say right here.”

Eleanor straightened herself up to her full, statuesque height, tossing her hair behind her shoulder as if she was born for this kind of stage. “I think we should get back together.”

Louis looked blankly at her. To be fair, that was the last thing he’d been expecting to come out of her mouth. “Why?”

Eleanor scoffed but there was a hint of doubt there, Louis could hear it. “What do you mean?” she asked, as if nothing was more obvious.

“Why, Eleanor?” He hated how self-evident she made the two of them sound when really, even she knew better. “Actually, you know what? No. My answer is no.”

Eleanor tossed her hair behind her shoulder indignantly, but then she leant in. Up close, she looked anxious. “Come on, Lou. Don’t ruin everything now,” she muttered.

“Walk away, Eleanor. I’m not getting into this with you.”

Eleanor pulled back, standing up to her full height. “Louis, I’m serious. Think about this.”

Louis lost it then. “Think about what, Eleanor? That you’re stuck-up, judgemental and fake? That for most of it, our relationship was a fucking joke?

The crowd gasped. It was cruel, Louis knew, but it was true. Besides, it was nothing Eleanor didn’t already know.

“Louis.” Her voice was a warning, as if they could somehow come back from the precipice they were barrelling towards.

“I only wish you’d done it sooner.”

Eleanor’s pretty features contorted from hurt to outrage to, finally, a sinister smile. “Don’t make me tell everyone why, Louis.” All of a sudden her tone was sickly sweet and Louis felt his heart drop into his gut. This was it, the nuclear option. He’d never imagined it actually happening, much less it being forced on him like this. All of a sudden, all Louis’ recklessness deserted him. He wanted to beg her to stop, please be quiet.

“Eleanor.”

Eleanor wasn’t deterred. “No, really, I’m sure everyone would love to know. I was a _wonderful_ girlfriend to you, Louis. _Very_ understanding. I think it would be unfair if everyone didn’t know the truth.”

“Please, El. Don’t do this,” Louis whispered desperately. There was no reason for her to listen to him now, but even at their worst moments, he’d never thought she’d do something like this.

Eleanor looked around, priming the audience for maximum impact. She looked him square in the eye and just like that, Louis knew it was over.

“Louis’ just relieved he doesn’t have to keep trying to get it up for a girl anymore.”

Their classmates’ reaction was so much worse than he could have imagined because instead of jeers there was nothing but silence, all eyes trained on him. He felt so utterly alone.

He could feel Ed place a hand on his shoulder, “Bro–”

“Get _off_ ,” he barked. Hot tears pricked his eyes, shame and fear and embarrassment all mixed into one hot mess. He willed his legs to get him out of there but he couldn’t move.

“How _could_ you?”

Eleanor’s lip curled but she looked shaken. “Now you know how it feels.”

**

He’d seen it happen, of course he’d seen it. _Everyone_ had, and Harry’s heart had broken for Louis as soon as the words had come out of Eleanor’s mouth. If Niall had been there, he might have accused Harry of feeling vindicated but he didn’t, not at all. Just helplessly sorry.

As soon as he’d bolted out the front door, Harry had rushed after him. He had no plan; no actions, or words could make Louis feel better but how could he not? Obviously, he’d never been outed to a hundred of their classmates but if anyone knew anywhere near what Louis was going through, it was Harry.

Finally, he found him, leant up against a rock wall in the front yard. Louis’ legs were tucked up against him in a ball, his head in his hands, his whole body wracked with sobs.

Harry approached with caution, mindful that they’d only shared a handful of words in three years. He’d never imagined their first conversation would be under these circumstances, but now that it was inevitable, Harry wasn’t afraid.

“Louis?”

Louis whipped his head around, startled.

“Are you ok?” Harry stood a few paces away in the shadows, careful not to encroach.

“I’m such a fuck-up.” His voice was high and shook with each syllable.

Harry took a tentative step forward. “You’re not.”

Louis sobbed, distraught. “Nobody wants me.”

Harry swallowed the lump in his throat. Now wasn’t the right time but nothing could be further from the truth. Louis looked so vulnerable, so beautiful, Harry had to stop himself from reaching to pull Louis into his arms.

“That’s not true.”

“What the fuck do you know?” Louis wiped at his tears away roughly with the back of his hand.

“I–” Harry started but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Louis pushed himself off the ground. “Who the fuck are you, anyway? Come out here just to give me shit?” His cheeks were flushed and his eyes puffy but there was a fire in his eyes now too.

“No, not at all, I just–” Harry wanted him so much his chest ached with it but he couldn’t formulate words.

“Just fuck off, ok? I don’t need you, or anyone feeling sorry for me,” Louis spat, looking Harry up and down. 

“Louis–” Harry took another step forward.

“I said fuck off!”

**

Harry walked down the street in a daze. Rationally, he knew he’d blown his one and only chance. Louis had just had the worst night of his life, Harry had lost the letter that said all the things he’d never be brave enough to say in person, and Louis had just told him to get lost.

He settled onto a bench and thumbed at his phone. The night was warm and something about it being the start of summer meant the night still felt like it held promise. And it seemed like Niall had scored, anyway, if his disappearance was anything to go by. Harry smiled to himself; miracles never ceased, and maybe there’d be one for him too before the night was over.

“You got a light?”

“Oh,” Harry was startled out of his reverie by a woman, leaning over the back of the bench. For the second time tonight, he got an eyeful because she wore a plaid shirt, open at the front and tied up at the waist and tiny denim shorts that barely covered anything at all.

Harry fixed his eyes to the front. “Oh… no, I don’t smoke. Sorry.”

The woman shrugged, walking around to sit down beside him. “You waiting for this bus too? I hope it hasn’t come early… Sometimes I think the driver passes through just to be an asshole.”

Harry looked around; indeed, it was a bus stop. “No,” he started, “just thinking.”

“Rough night?” Her accent was Southern and her eyes were kind.

Harry smiled small. “Something like that.”

“You in school, honey?” She folded one leg over the other, cowboy boots making them look like they went on forever.

Harry nodded before correcting himself. “Just graduated, actually.”

She smiled. “Congratulations.”

Harry shrugged and looked at his feet.

“Well I got nothing but time if you wanna talk about it.”

Harry twisted his fingers together in his lap and took a breath. “You ever just want something so bad you can taste it?” He could feel a blush rise on his cheeks.

She smiled. “Boy trouble?”

Harry didn’t bother asking how she knew. He smiled, he dropped his head, hair falling into his face. “Yeah.”

“He cheat on you or somethin’?” Her voice was musical and she wore a bemused expression that made her seem unshockable. Harry liked it. “Men are assholes.”

Harry laughed out loud. “Some. Not this one, though.”

She uncrossed and re-crossed her legs. “What’s he got you so cut up for then, sugar?”

“He doesn’t know I exist. Or well, he didn’t until tonight. And then he told me to fuck off.”

The woman burst out laughing. “Oh, shit.” Then, “I’m Kacey.” She held out a hand.

Harry shook it. “Harry.”

Kacey clapped her hands together. “So, tell me all about him.”

When he finished, Kacey sighed in sympathy. “Sounds like you’ve got yourself into a bit of a situation.”

Harry snorted. “You could say that.” Then, serious, “I just– I never thought I’d be here, y’know? I didn’t expect he’d just fall into my arms one day in the cafeteria but I just trusted that… things would fall into place at some point. I must sound nuts.”

Kacey laughed, a lovely tinkling sound. “A little. You ever just think about like, talking to him?”

Harry rolled his eyes but he was used to it by now. “Yeah, I did. It’s just… high school, you know?” It was an inadequate explanation he knew, but he couldn’t own up to the way he’d probably let Louis slip through his fingers.

Kacey nodded. “I get that. He sounds cute, your Louis, but you ever worry about like, putting him on a pedestal?”

Harry snorted ruefully. “Jeez, out here with the hard hitting questions.”

“Just wonderin’.” Kacey smiled.

“Sure, of course. But then I think that he just deserves the world. I don’t wanna… _save_ him or anything like that, he doesn’t need saving. But I feel like I know him. And if he’d just read my letter, I feel like he’d know me too. And maybe he’d know that we’re– we’re–” Harry couldn’t finish.

Kacey let out a whoosh of breath. “Oh, baby.”

Harry looked up plaintively. “When he smiles, I just–” His heart clenched horribly in his chest. For the first time, he felt doubt that things might actually not work out the way they were supposed to; that there was a chance he’d never get to tell Louis how he felt. He could feel the dread of impending loss like a knife in his chest.

“What are you gonna do now?”

Harry put his head in his hands, muttering. “I don’t know… I don’t know.”

Kacey resituated herself on the bench. “Can I tell you a little story?”

Harry looked up, chewing at his lip. “Sure,” he replied in a soft voice.

“So, you might have noticed I’m not from around these here parts.” Kacey said the last part in an exaggerated drawl and Harry couldn’t help but grin at her cheesiness.

“Since I was in diapers, I was convinced I was going to be a country music star. When I was your age, fresh outta school, I moved to Nashville from little old Golden, Texas. Like you, I was a big believer in fate, that I just had to trust the process. Don’t get me wrong, I worked my ass off, and I had some good opportunities but I saw plenty of people come through and get their shot; some better than me but plenty not. I wasn’t cocky but I held onto that faith. I worked, and I waited, but my big break never came.”

“I’m sorry, that must have sucked for you.” Harry didn’t really know what to say.

Kacey went on, “Then, I met a _guy_ and we moved up here and I sorta just… gave up. And well, men are assholes, you know how that story goes.”

Harry smiled.

“I don’t know what I would have done differently, even whether anything I could have done would have made a difference. But don’t do what I did and lose hope, ok? There’s fate, sure. But fate only gets you so far. The rest, you gotta make happen yourself.”

“Anyway,” she continued, “I work at Shaw’s during the day and I dance at night. And when I make enough, I can get my demo recorded in a proper studio. Move back, try again.”

Harry did a double-take. “Wait– you’re a _stripper_?”

Kacey winked at him. “I’m a _cowgirl_.” She gathered her things as the tell-tale rumble grew louder, the bus groaning to a halt in front of them with a hiss. “This is me.”

Harry stood abruptly. “I really hope things work out for you. And thanks– thank you. Really.”

Kacey placed a boot on the stairs of the bus and turned. “Don’t thank me, honey. Just go get your man.”

“I will,” Harry replied, a little breathless. “I will. I’ve got to go.”

Kacey threw him a final wink before climbing on board. And as soon as the doors closed, Harry ran.

**

Niall slumped against the back of the door, defeated. His voice was hoarse from shouting and his fists sore from thumping uselessly against the door long after the voices had faded away. 

Shawn slid down to sit beside him. “Well, fuck.”

“What is _wrong_ with people?” Niall replied weakly.

Shawn shrugged his shoulders. “They’re drunk, man, probably forget what they came up here for two seconds after hearing us banging on the door.” A wry smile appeared on Shawn’s face. “They probably think we’re hooking up like… really enthusiastically.” Shawn cackled.

“How can you think this is funny?” Niall felt his chest getting tight and his palms getting sweaty. Tell-tale signs he was familiar with. He rubbed his palms on his jeans and took a big gulp of oxygen.

“I don’t, but like, no point worrying about something we can’t fix.”

Niall turned to stare at him. “ _No point worrying_ ,” Niall quoted, slightly hysterical, “what if they have to call the _fire department_ to get us out?” An even more harrowing possibility rendered his cheeks clammy. “Fuck, what if the party gets raided and the _police_ find us?”

Niall’s heart raced. “What if we get _arrested_?”

Shawn wasn’t smiling anymore, his brow furrowed. “Dude–”

“I don’t know how Dartmouth would find out but they _could_ , people put all sorts of shit on social media, oh my god, what if they rescind my offer, what if–”

Niall’s throat felt like a vacuum, air getting sucked in but none getting out. It felt like someone was sitting on his chest, an invisible weight crushing his lungs until he couldn’t breathe. He felt out of control, restless but paralysed by dread. “Shawn, I think–”

Shawn looked at him wide-eyed, gaze reflecting the terror Niall knew showed in his. “Woah,” Shawn’s big hands flew up to grip Niall by the shoulders. “Hey, it’s ok. Niall, you’re ok.”

Niall shook his head frantically. “I can’t–” He gasped for air.

Shawn gripped harder. “Shit, um, ok. Take some deep breaths.”

Niall scrunched his face helplessly; as if he hadn’t thought of that. Niall made a cursory effort but it was hard with Shawn holding on tightly and encroaching into his space.

Shawn seemed to sense something was up because he loosened his hold, one thumb rubbing cautiously back and forth over Niall’s collarbone. “Hey, look at me. I’ll do it with you. _In_ ,” Shawn inhaled deep, “and out. In… and out…”

Niall inhaled and exhaled with shaky breath.

“That’s it,” Shawn smiled warmly, “you’re doing awesome.”

Niall concentrated on his breaths, slower and more measured now, Shawn still breathing with him. “Thank you… thanks,” he whispered, once he could speak again, trying to ignore the heat of Shawn’s palms on his shoulders.

Shawn gave him one more squeeze, eyes still trained on him if he was scared Niall might deteriorate all over again. “Do you need some water?” Shawn asked, earnest, before his eyes twinkled, adding, “Or there’s like… beer, tequila…I think I even saw a bottle of Malibu.” Shawn cracked a smile and Niall couldn’t help but laugh. “We’ve got everything in here.” Shawn caught his eye and laughed gently with him and Niall could feel the energy in the room change, something fragile building between them that managed to feel new but somehow also comfortably familiar.

“Bro,” Shawn said after a few minutes, “you scared me.” His gaze was fixed firmly on the door.

Shawn’s honesty rendered Niall awkward and tongue-tied despite being so determined to play it cool. But Shawn wasn’t even ribbing him for losing his shit just for being locked in a bathroom for a few hours. Instead he was just being supportive, and nice, and funny, and Niall couldn’t deal with it.

“Do you hear yourself when you talk? _Bro_ ,” Niall said the word in an exaggeratedly deep voice, mocking. He laughed at his own lame impersonation, looking over to catch Shawn’s reaction. But Shawn wasn’t laughing, wasn’t even smiling, and his shoulders were locked, rigid.

“Why did you have to go and ruin it, huh?” Shawn shook his head in disbelief. “I _can’t even_ with you–”

“I’m sorry,” Niall muttered, taken aback and mentally kicking himself. He wanted to apologise for his stupidity, lack of tact, generally shitty social skills, basically _anything_ that would make Shawn relaxed and happy again and would bring back that gentle détente that turned his ears pink and made something warm fizz in his belly. Shawn fixed him with a stare, fierce and unyielding.

Before Niall could speak, though, Shawn groaned loudly, then grabbed him by the back of the head and kissed him. _Hard_. Niall froze, powerless to move out of Shawn’s grasp. He couldn’t process what was happening, let alone react. But before he knew it, it was over.

Shawn pulled back but he didn’t pull away, cradling Niall’s face in hand. “You’re driving me fucking crazy, do you know that?”

Niall opened his mouth to apologise but Shawn just leaned in again and covered Niall’s mouth with his own, slow this time, and Niall melted helplessly into it. Shawn’s mouth was deliciously cold, sweet with the taste of rum and coke, and refreshing like a lungful of fall air. Niall couldn’t get enough of it.

Finally, Shawn had to pull away, breathless and panting and Niall pawed at Shawn’s shirtsleeves in protest. “No, don’t stop,” he whined, eagerness embarrassingly transparent.

Shawn chuckled softly, eyes shining. “So _demanding_.”

Niall rolled his eyes. “You love it.”

“Maybe,” Shawn replied, raising his eyebrows once before pulling Niall in to kiss him again.

**

Barely an hour after he’d made his promises to Ant, Zayn found himself three sheets to the wind, giggling helplessly, as Liam shoved him in the shoulder. “Fuck, dude,” Liam laughed, his body shaking with it. He wiped at tears in his eyes. “How can you keep fucking up _chopsticks_? You’re meant to be good at this.”

“I _am_ ,” Zayn was vehement, “but they don’t teach chopsticks in classical training. Also, I’m fucking wasted.” He shrugged his shoulders philosophically.

Liam snorted. “I’m fucking wasted and I can still play my part.”

They tried again but Zayn’s lack of concentration made it impossible, little sparks of heat travelling up his spine every time he screwed up and Liam’s fingers brushed his own. What the fuck was Liam playing at? The party was in full-swing and here he was, choosing to sit with Zayn, playing fucking _footsie_ under the bench and nudging at him playfully as if it was something they’d done for years. Zayn couldn’t help but feel like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop and it made his every fibre scream at him to bail, get himself out of there, protect himself. But he didn’t, he _couldn’t_ , because he liked it too much, seeing Liam like this.

Only then, Liam upped the ante, reaching his right hand over to gently press Zayn’s fingers down onto the right keys, and Zayn’s breath caught in his throat, and he just…couldn’t. He balled his fingers into a fist and dropped them into his lap.

“What are you doing?”

Liam’s face froze in a half-smile like he knew he’d been busted.

Suddenly, Zayn’s blood ran cold and he darted to the opposite end of the bench. “Wait. Is this– is this all because you suddenly feel _guilty_? You’re trying to make _amends_?”

Liam looked horrified and, in his haze, Zayn couldn’t tell if it looked genuine. 

“I don’t know why I expected any different,” Zayn muttered to himself. It was time to go. Hell, it had been time to go a _long_ time ago. High school was over, and Ant had been right. It didn’t do to dwell on it, hope that he could make his mark. It was too late. His legs were unsteady as he stood up.

“ _No_ ,” Liam grabbed his wrist and yanked him down. “Sorry– I’m sorry. Please stay. That’s not why–”

Zayn didn’t think his heart could sink any lower until it did, because _shit_ , Liam hadn’t even realised he had anything to be guilty _for_ , so inconsequential was Zayn to his entire high school experience.

Liam shook his head as if to clear it. “Look, I know I’m not the smartest guy in the world but you’re right. I should have said something. Zayn, I’m sorry for how those assholes treated you. They were so out of line.”  
  
“I’m not just talking about them.”

“You probably don’t believe me but I really tried to get them to stop, I–”

Zayn stiffened. “I’m not talking about _them_.”

Liam’s grip tightened on Zayn’s wrist and Zayn dropped his head to stare at it. Liam followed his gaze and quickly let go, embarrassed. “Then what?”

Now was his moment. He didn’t need to follow through with some childish plan, he could have it out with Liam here and now. He didn’t need to bitch and moan, show Liam how much hurt he still carried, he could just say his piece, and maybe Liam would apologise, they could shake hands and go their separate ways. Maybe he wouldn’t get the respect he deserved from his classmates, but he’d get it from Liam, and that would be enough.

Zayn looked him square in the eye. “You really don’t remember?”

Zayn could remember it like it was yesterday. He’d been asked to play at assembly, notionally a _reward_ for taking first prize at the Boston International Youth Piano competition; attention he would have rather do without. He’d climbed the stairs to the stage, hands shaking as he’d tried desperately to forget the hundred sets of eyes all fixed upon him. As soon as his fingers had swept over the keys, the opening strains of Rachmaninov’s third piano concerto echoing around the hall, he’d heard them. At first, it was just quiet snickering from the back, then, emboldened, the snickers had turned into jeers; boos and loud snoring noises. When they too went unpunished, the jeers had turned into full on taunts. _Fag,_ disguised in a faux cough. _Show off_ , muttered loud enough for the whole room to hear. In response, throughout the Allegro, he’d played louder, more forcefully, striking the keys with as much defiance as he could muster while blinking back tears. But it was no use, because finally a voice from the back, Samuels probably, shouted a bored “Turn it _off!_ ” before the whole audience burst into cruel laughter.

Zayn had stopped dead, only a few bars before the end of the first movement, fingers hovering above the keys, frozen in place.

Only then, he’d heard Liam’s voice, unmistakeable; breathy and crisp. “Let him play, I think he sounds amazing.”

Those simple words had been enough to push Zayn over the edge, pushing up and out of the seat to flee down the stairs, Liam’s mockery ringing in his ears. He’d been too ashamed to attend school the whole rest of the week. Even now, the searing humiliation made his cheeks hot.

“But–” It was Liam’s turn to look confused. “I meant everything I said.”

Zayn’s head swam. Nothing made sense. Liam’s story accorded much better with the version of Liam in front of him here and now but he barely let himself believe the alternative. But surely Liam wouldn’t take things this far if he was joking, would he?

Liam shook his head. “I never– I would never…”

Liam gently circled Zayn’s wrist again where it lay between them, and Zayn operated on autopilot, blurting out, “I have a confession to make,” at the same time that Liam asked, “Do you wanna go somewhere?”

Liam’s eyes looked so open, deep brown and hopeful. “Sorry,” he smiled sheepishly, “what were you going to say?”

Zayn swallowed; his throat was like a desert. “Oh, nothing.”

Liam smiled shyly and let go of Zayn’s wrist, rising up off the bench. He lifted his snapback to smooth a hand over his hair and shoved his hands in his pockets. “C’mon.”

Zayn didn’t say a word but he scrambled out of the bench seat all the same.

Liam walked with purpose, leading Zayn through the house and out the backdoor. Where before the backyard had been buzzing with people, by this time of night, only a couple of kids loitered, talking in hushed voices and smoking cigarettes.

Liam crossed the deck and down the stairs to the garden below, disappearing quickly behind a row of dark trees. Zayn made his way down the steps carefully, holding onto the handrail as his eyes adjusted. As soon as Zayn stepped down onto the dewy grass, he felt Liam’s arm loop around his waist and tugged Zayn to him.

Even in the pitch darkness, Liam’s attention was sobering; the way he pressed in close, thumbing at the lapels of Zayn’s jacket, the way his tongue darting out to lick his lips with nerves… or something else.

Zayn swallowed but he didn’t pull away. His brain was addled but not enough for him to know that this was no joke.

“Is this ok?” Liam whispered into his ear, his hands flat against Zayn’s chest but dropping, slowly, so slowly.

“Oh god, yes,” Zayn hissed, the words escaping unbidden and desperately honest. It felt like his skin was on fire. “But not here.”

Liam’s eyes flashed as he looked around. “Shit. Over here.” Liam tugged him again and Zayn went willingly, until Liam pushed him up against the back of the shed and mouthed at his neck.

“Liam, wait–” Zayn whispered, scrambling to get a grip on Liam’s shirt. 

Liam pulled back so they could make eye contact. “I’ve wanted to do this all night,” he said, leaning in, closer and closer, before his eyes flickered shut. Zayn inhaled sharply but tilted his chin up–

Only then, with a deafening rattle, the door to the shed burst open and Zayn jumped out of Liam’s arms. A cold realisation came over him but it was like it happened in slow motion, the way he tried to shove Liam in behind him, the way he heard the deafening shout of _Eat shit, fuckers!_ , the way he felt the tacky spray of cold glue on his face.

“ _Danny_ , _no_!”

Zayn raised his hands in protest but it was too late.

**

Louis debated returning to the party for no other reason that he might find Harry. Liam had deserted him, apparently, Shawn had been missing for hours now, and even if Stan and Oli were still conscious, he doubted they’d come looking for him after Eleanor’s big reveal.

He knew the whispers would start as soon as he walked back in the door, eyes dry but no doubt still red, but it wasn’t as bad as he’d expected. The party was winding down; teenagers passed out on the furniture, those still going stumbling around dopily, couples in various stages of hooking up in dark corners, even the odd few do-gooders putting empties in big black garbage bags.

Megan stared at him wide-eyed from where she stood, sandwiched between the kitchen counter and her simpleton of a boyfriend who going to town slobbering over her neck. But to her credit, she said nothing.

One of the performing arts kids, a handsome guy named Sam with dark, hooded eyes and an intense gaze gave him a sort of knowing nod as he passed. This kind of attention was new, not judgemental, but appraising, and appreciative. In an odd way, it was like he’d finally given himself permission to look, to see who was out there, and who might be looking back. But now, there was only one person whose attention he wanted.

“Hey, Tomlinson!” came a call from the couch. Calvin was known for two things; giving some poor girl chlamydia in eighth grade and being able to basically acquire any drug for any person in any quantity within whatever time frame they needed. He was a cool guy but you wanted to wash your hands afterwards.

“What up, Rodgers,” Louis said as he passed, not particularly interested in the answer. Calvin pinched the roach of a joint between two fingers, blowing smoke straight up in the air as he sprawled out on the couch, a sleeping girl curled into his side.

“Saw your big finale before, man,” Calvin chuckled and whistled low. “Holy shit your girl was pissed.”

Louis grimaced. “Yeah…well.” He shrugged his shoulders.

Calvin dropped the roach into a nearby cup where it fizzled out with a hiss. “Nah, that’s cool, that’s cool. I had a threesome with a dude once. Wasn’t half bad.”

Louis supposed that was his effort at being helpful. “Yeah…um, cool.” He decided to take the opportunity; Calvin knew a lot of people. “Hey, this might be a longshot but do you know a guy in our grade called Harry?”

Calvin narrowed his eyes while he thought about it, until– “Yeah, man. Harry Styles. Sold him some shrooms once.” Calvin cackled. “His little friend was absolutely shitting bricks about it, I remember. That was some _good_ shit.” Calvin smiled fondly.

Louis’ heart leapt in his chest. “Do you know what he looks like?” He tried not to sound too hopeful but Calvin wasn’t bothered.

“Yeah man, tall. Brown hair. Dresses a bit weird but it’s a vibe and girls seem to dig it.”

“Is he still here? I mean– have you seen him recently?” Louis tapped his foot nervously.

“Not for a little bit, but like,” Calvin lifted his hips off the couch and rooted around under his legs, retrieving a book. “Been sitting on this fucking thing for ages. Here you go.”

He tossed the book to Louis, who only just caught it. Their yearbook. _Of course._ Why hadn’t he thought of that.

“Wow, thanks, man.” Louis really meant it.

Calvin stretched out his limbs and the girl nuzzled into his shoulder but didn’t wake. “You’re welcome, dude.” Calvin’s eyes glinted in the low light. “You should hit that.” He burst out with happy laughter.

Louis rolled his eyes but couldn’t help but smile with him. “You’re disgusting, Rodgers.”

Calvin just wiggled his eyebrows, grinning sleepily as he curled in towards the girl. “Have a good night, Tommo.”

He stared at the yearbook for a few moments, teeth worrying his lower lip before flipping to the middle. He turned one page, then two, and then his eyes scanned downwards… Santos, Singh, Smith, Stafford… _Styles_.

Louis let out a breath he hadn’t even noticed he’d been holding, because he was… _perfect_ –handsome for sure, with bright eyes, wavy hair and a cut jaw. In the photo, Harry wore a broad grin that lit up his whole face but also made him look a little goofy, sort of half-frog, half-Disney prince. More than anything, though, he looked kind. Louis could barely believe he’d never noticed him before, not realising how much he’d been hiding himself away, holding himself back.

He smiled stupidly at Harry’s picture for a few moments but only then did it occur to him. _Fuck_ , he had seen Harry tonight, because Harry, gorgeous, sweet Harry had been the only person in their whole disaster of a school to come check on him when he’d been suffering. And Louis had told him to fuck off.

Oh _God._

**

Zayn spluttered as he tried to clear his airway of glitter. Just as he’d predicted, it was everywhere; in his eyes, in his mouth, skating a path down his front as it tumbled down his shirt. Blinking his eyes open, it was a kaleidoscope of itchy rainbow.

“What the _fuck_ ,” Liam choked out beside him. Zayn watched, bleary eyed, as Liam raked his fingers down his shirt where the glitter stuck in big sparkly globs. His snapback had saved his hair from the worst of it but his shirt was wrecked and his handsome face was covered. 

“Oh, shit dude.” Ant brought his hands to his face, his eyes wide in disbelief. “We just saw Liam and it was super dark and we just, like, _went for it_.” A small smile flickered across Ant’s face although Danny looked mad.

“The fuck is wrong with you?” Liam barked. In the meantime, he’d made some progress on his face but his cheeks were red and blotchy where he’d peeled the glue away. 

Zayn spun around, glitter covered hands spread out in front of himself. “This is my fault, not theirs.”

Liam looked at him like he had grown another head. “ _Your_ fault–wait, _what_?”

The itch was unbearable but Zayn tried to stay still. “It wasn’t meant to happen like this.”

Liam fixed him with a bloodshot stare. “ _What_ wasn’t?” Then, “You _planned_ this?”

“Liam, I didn’t know–“ Zayn tried to backpedal. “It wasn’t meant for _you_ –“

“Yes it was,” Danny cut in, bold all of a sudden. “Of course it was. Zayn tell him.” Danny turned his attention to Liam. “You’re an asshole, _asshole_!” 

“Danny, shut the fuck up,” Ant supplied, making eye contact with Zayn and his eyes flickering with understanding. He tugged at Danny’s sleeve. “Just let it go.” 

Danny huffed and Zayn felt like a traitor.

“Z, there’s like, solvent, in the– well, you know,” Ant said, again being the best friend Zayn needed but didn’t really feel like he deserved. “We’re just gonna go. But I’ll call you tomorrow, k?”

Zayn mouthed a silent _thank you_ as Liam looked on. Danny’s cheeks were red with anger but he didn’t say anything as Ant led him away. 

Liam scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Are you going to explain what the fuck is going on?” He didn’t sound angry anymore, just confused, _hurt_.

Fuck. 

Zayn sighed. “Don’t be mad, ok,” he began pointlessly, “but like, me and the boys just had this _prank_ planned, just a little bit of payback, you know, and–”

Notwithstanding the smattering of glitter still glued to Liam’s skin, he looked pale as the colour drained from his cheeks. “So wait, did you like– _tonight_? Is that why you hung out with me? To play some stupid fucking _practical joke_?”

Zayn reeled. “What are you talking about, man? You think that when we–” he can hardly say the word, _kissed_ , “–when I did… _that_ , that it was all some elaborate plan to fuck with you?”

“I don’t know, Zayn, was it?” 

Zayn was so frustrated he couldn’t help but tug Liam towards him to make him listen. Zayn thumbed at the hem of Liam’s shirt where the fabric was still tacky. “I admit it, ok? I planned this whole stupid thing; the glitter, the glue, all of it. And _fine_ , I hoped you’d get wasted, and when the opportunity presented itself, thought I could get you out here, and–” Zayn stopped short because Liam looked close to tears. “But I’d lost my nerve way before– way before we– Liam, I wouldn’t have. Please believe me.” Zayn felt more frantic every passing moment; he had to turn this around. 

“Why did you then? If you’d lost your nerve but still hated me so much, why did you keep stringing me along all night? Why didn’t you just leave me alone?” Liam’s voice sounded plaintive, desperate, _scared_ , and it made Zayn’s heart break a little. But it also made him feel resolute, and never let it be said that Zayn Malik didn’t follow through. 

He took a deep breath, ready to lay his heart on the line. “Because I wanted to believe it, ok? I wanted to believe that I was someone you wanted to talk to.” He paused. “That I was cool enough, good enough, whatever.” His cheeks burned and his eyes trained on where he still clung to Liam’s shirt. 

Liam grabbed Zayn’s free hand. “Zayn–”

But Zayn shook his head; he wasn’t done. “And the whole thing was so fucking stupid, _obviously_ , but like, even though I was mad, on some level, I still just wanted you to notice me.”

After what felt like hours, Zayn finally looked up to meet Liam’s gaze. With a huff of laughter, Liam’s face broke into a broad grin. “God damn, Malik. For someone so smart you sure can be dumb sometimes.” 

Zayn must have looked particularly perplexed because Liam laughed again and tugged Zayn close, their clothing sticking between them. Liam leant in to whisper, “I’ve been doing nothing but notice you for years. Since that day in assembly, I–” Liam swallowed and gripped Zayn tighter.

Zayn tucked his face into Liam’s neck where his skin was warm and mostly unscathed. He smiled. “Yeah, you really fucked that one up, didn’t you.”

Liam scoffed. “ _I_ fucked it up? I wasn’t the one who couldn’t take a compliment.”

Zayn shrugged. “I didn’t have much reason to trust you or your friends.”

Liam pulled away, holding Zayn at arms’ length in order to look him square in the eye. “I should have defended you. I was a fucking coward, I–” Liam exhaled. 

Zayn couldn’t argue but he understood. 

Liam continued, “It’s high school, you know? You just never want anyone to look too closely.” 

Zayn smiled weakly. “I get it.”

Liam fixed him with a dark stare, eyes searching. He licked his lips. “What now?”

Despite everything, Zayn just… _wanted_. “Well, high school’s over, so…” 

Liam broke into a shy smile, eyes crinkling at the corners as he averted his gaze. He nodded before lifting his head to lock eyes with Zayn once again. “Ok,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.

And it was all the encouragement Zayn needed, shuffling back into Liam’s space. He traced a thumb over Liam’s jaw where sparkles stuck fast to his stubble before leaning in to press their lips together. 

This kiss was just as good as the previous one, sending rushes of warmth up Zayn’s spine and making his heart race. Only, Liam tasted like glue and his lips felt like sawdust. Pulling away, Zayn gagged, and Liam scrunched his nose before grabbing Zayn’s hand and pulling him back towards the house. With a warm laugh, he said, “You really did a number on me, Malik. This shit is fucking _gross_.” Then, biting his lip, he grinned. “Let’s get cleaned up–I’m not done with you yet.”

**

Not fifteen minutes later, Louis flopped back down on the couch. Harry was nowhere, had probably left long ago, like all those kids who didn’t need to cling desperately onto the remaining minutes of high school. Louis wondered himself how, despite his earlier intentions, had stayed out until well past four AM, not that it hadn’t been a night to remember. For good and bad.

Louis checked his phone. Just enough battery to call an Uber. Earlier than he would have liked, it was time to cut and run.

He navigated to the app and punched in his home address. Dave, driving a black Honda Civic, would be there in less than ten minutes. Louis sighed and decided to end the evening the way it began; with another underwhelming game of Candy Crush. His phone lasted the lesser part of one level before it gave up the ghost.

Shoving his phone back in his pocket, his eyes flickered to the front door just as it swung open. Louis blinked, hesitant to believe his eyes, because there he was. _Harry_. 

Louis barely dared to breathe lest he break the spell because Harry was looking square at him, frozen. It wasn’t the first time they’d made eye contact, not even the first time tonight, but it felt like no one had ever looked at him the way Harry was looking at him now. It was as if Harry just _knew_ , had always known, had seen every part of Louis there was to see, and saw it all now with just one look. Louis had spent enough nights futilely begging, pleading, to a higher power that he didn’t have reason to believe in one anymore, but something about the way Harry looked at him felt a little bit like destiny.

“I thought you’d be gone.”

Harry’s voice was rich and warm and Louis again wondered how he’d been so blind, so absent in his own life that he’d failed to notice someone so captivating. Louis wanted to stroke his hair, make him laugh, watch the way his long fingers curled around a pen to write the letter that had started it all. Louis wanted to kiss him and touch him and take Harry’s breath away the way Harry had taken his.

“You too.”

“I came back.” Harry smiled and lowered his gaze to Louis’ lap. His eyes widened and his smile faltered.

“That’s my letter.” Harry twisted his fingers together nervously.

Louis placed a protective hand over the envelope where it poked out of the yearbook. “I thought it was my letter.”

Harry let out a whoosh of breath. “I mean– it is. Did you read it?”

Louis smiled himself then, tongue darting out to lick his lips. “Of course I read it.”

“Oh.”

Louis hated the way Harry looked so nervous. “Was I not supposed to?”

Harry shook his head. “No, no, it’s– uh, yeah. That’s why I wrote it. For you to read.”

“Were you going to give it to me?”

Harry shifted around on his feet. “I mean– I was, I really was, and I tried, but I just–”

Louis cut him off. “It’s amazing.”

Harry’s eyes shot up, fearful, and Louis was stunned by Harry’s bravery, his willingness to lay his heart on the line despite the risk. Louis wondered if Harry had felt that similar pull of _meant to be_.

“How do you get away with saying shit like that?” Louis tried to joke but Harry was steadfast and just shrugged.

“It’s easy because it’s true.”

Louis’ heart was beating a mile a minute and he thought his legs might give way as he rose up off the couch to stand in front of Harry. “Maybe we should start from the beginning. I’m Louis.”

Harry rocked back and forth on his heels and shoved his hands in his pockets. His head was bowed but he looked up, bashful. “Harry.”

Already, Louis couldn’t get enough of it. “Do you wanna maybe…?” Louis gestured his head towards the door and Harry nodded.

Outside, the crisp morning air was revitalizing, the sun just barely starting to brighten the night sky. Louis led them to sit at the rock wall where earlier, he’d felt like it was the worst day of his life. How quickly things could change.

“I feel like you know me but I don’t know you.” Louis’ eyes flickered up to Harry’s then back down to where their hands lay between them.

Harry chewed his lip. “You can, if you want to. I want you to. If you want.”

Louis smiled. He knew Harry could be eloquent, he’d read it himself, but this Harry was so disarmingly nervous that oddly, Louis felt in control. Harry had done his part in getting them here and Louis desperately wanted to do the rest.

He extended a tentative pinkie finger to loop over Harry’s. It was a totally sixth grade move but the tiny touch sent shivers up his spine, felt more important, more exciting, than any of the sex he’d had before.

Harry sighed and his whole body went loose as if his strings had been cut, reaching to cover Louis’ whole hand with his own, gripping his fingers tightly. “You have no idea how much– how _long_ –” He sounded pained and it made Louis want to pull him in, comfort him, tell him, _it’s ok, I feel it too._

Louis shifted closer until they sat shoulder to shoulder, hands still clasped between them. Louis took it all in, the way Harry looked tonight, cheeks blushed and eyes bright, and so full of happiness.

“Hey,” Louis started, a small smile playing on his lips. “It’s ok, you don’t have to be nervous. You– you don’t even know what you did for me tonight.” Louis leant in close, speaking in a whisper. “I wish I could tell you how much your letter meant to me. But maybe, if you want, I could show you?”

Harry turned his head suddenly, eyes wide and lips parted and Louis couldn’t wait a second longer, reaching his free hand to cradle Harry’s face, looking into Harry’s eyes until they fluttered shut, tugging Harry in closer, closer, until their lips met.

Immediately, Harry filled his senses with the heat of his body, the smell of his skin, the taste of his lips, the firm pull of the arm that tugged him in by the waist until Louis was half in Harry’s lap, searching, seeking out more with his hands and his mouth. It was so much better than he’d ever let himself imagine, felt so fucking right, like seeing colour after a lifetime of living in black and white. 

“ _Oh God_ ,” Harry lamented, voice choked and breathless, and Louis just wanted more and more.

It wasn’t until a flash of headlights that made Louis shield his eyes that he forced himself out of Harry’s arms.

“Fuck,” he panted, squeezing at Harry’s forearms, unwilling to let go completely. “That’s me.”

“Don’t go,” Harry blurted out the blatant desire in his voice made Louis’ heart clench uncomfortably.

“I’m leaving the day after tomorrow. Or like, tomorrow now, I guess.” Louis had never felt trepidation about leaving before but now it was like time was ticking down too quickly.

“Just– stay with me this morning, then.” Harry’s eyes were dark and desperate. “If you can.”

Louis looked to the black Honda and back again. Tomorrow, he’d still be leaving to start his future but he had one more day just to live in the present. He grinned. “Yeah, ok.”

**

Harry drained his cup as he looked around, bleary-eyed but comfortable, nestled into a booth at the local diner. Mary‑Ann’s groaned under the weight of half of the senior class of Lawrence Park, kids crammed into booths or sat at the bar, nursing brutal hangovers and picking at eggs and pancakes with their heads in their hands. Mary‑Ann herself moved swiftly between tables, acting suitably maternal–both sympathetic and chiding–as she filled chipped china cups with industrial strength coffee.

Mary‑Ann said it was the same every year; students would move on and fresh faces would take their places, ordering milkshakes and fries over homework sessions and weekend hangouts.

“It’s not that I won’t miss you boys, it’s just that I’ve been doing this for thirty years. You kids grow up, leave town and I forget all about you,” she chuckled, refilling Harry’s cup, “But I always hope every student who’s passed through this diner is out there, living their lives, being happy, and doing well.”

“I don’t know whether to be insulted or touched,” Niall muttered as Mary Ann wandered off. Around six, he’d stumbled into the diner with Shawn Mendes, of all people, in tow. Of course, Harry hadn’t missed the way Shawn gave Niall’s elbow a barely-there little squeeze before sliding into the booth with his friends and leaving Niall to locate a tired, but elated, Harry, with Louis still at his side.

“But I guess I’m pretty forgettable,” Niall added darkly.

Louis snorted and Harry blushed, sheepish. “I’m sorry! I’ve apologised like ten times! How was I to know you were stuck in there? I just thought you’d left or hooked up or something!”

Niall rolled his eyes. “Yeah, ok. Me, Niall Horan, hooking up.” Then, a smug grin spread across his face. “Although I guess that’s exactly what I ended up doing, so.”

Niall had relayed the tale at least three times this morning, on the third time throwing a thirsty look over to where Shawn was sitting with his legs hanging out of the booth like he owned the place.

“I can’t believe you lost your virginity in a bathroom.” Louis wrinkled his nose. “That’s certainly something.”

Niall stared point blank at Louis and blinked. They’d been there for over an hour and it seemed to Harry like Niall still couldn’t quite believe that Harry had come through with the goods after all. Harry had to pinch himself because he still didn’t quite believe it either, notwithstanding the way Louis gripped his hand underneath the table and smiled at him warmly.

As Niall and Louis made stilted conversation, Harry scanned the room. In the corner, Zayn Malik sat with Ant and Danny, the three of them chattering away. Zayn, especially, looked more calm and happy than Harry had ever seen him despite looking like he’d been through the ringer; hair stuck together with traces of glitter glue or something and face red as if it had been scrubbed to within an inch of its life. Harry smiled to himself, it was nice to see someone like Zayn finally cutting loose and having some fun.

At the cool kids table where Shawn was, Ryan Graves was feeding Maxie Hirst pancakes off his fork and Harry was so full of love he couldn’t help but be charmed by the way she kissed him on the cheek afterward. Across from them, Liam Payne joked with Jordan Lang who had Megan Cummings napping on his shoulder, his arm wrapped tightly her. Harry didn’t fail to notice Eleanor was nowhere to be seen. Liam chuckled, his laughter sleepy and warm and Harry’s eyes snapped up to Liam’s hair where it stuck out from underneath his snapback because it glittered too. And Harry could have sworn Liam was wearing a different shirt last night.

Shawn edged out of his booth, clearly not caring who saw as he walked down the row to squeeze in next to Niall.

“Everybody have a good night?” Shawn asked wryly, wiggling his eyebrows and eyeing Louis and Harry pointedly.

Niall huffed. “Fucking hell, Mendes, why do you have to be such a creep? We’re just all trying to have a nice morning, and you just waltz on in and–”

“Oh for crying out loud, I was only asking,” Shawn interrupted, “Harry and Louis don’t mind, do you boys?”

Louis opened his mouth to answer but Niall cut him off. “Try and have some tact for once in your life, Shawn, _honestly_.”

Shawn nudged Niall’s shoulder with his. “You weren’t complaining about me being tactful last night,” he said, voice low and suggestive but Niall just looked at him, incredulous.

“You mean _tactile_?” Niall asked, exasperated, as if he could hardly believe his ears.

Shawn bit his tongue between his teeth, grinning, eyes dark. “You know I love it when you use big words on me, Horan.”

Shawn did something beneath the table that Harry couldn’t see and Niall squeaked, his cheeks turning a bright shade of pink.

Harry grimaced but couldn’t hide his laughter. “Oh my god, we’re in _public_.”

Niall’s gaze flitted to the small corridor behind the counter then back to the table. “Yeah, um, I’m just gonna–” He clambered over Shawn and booked it into the back, shooting Shawn a sly look over his shoulder.

Shawn watched him go before stealing a bite of Niall’s plain toast. He brushed his hands together to rid them of crumbs before standing up. “Sorry guys, nature calls.”

Harry could only watch as Shawn scooted off after him. “Well I’ll be damned.”

Harry interlaced his fingers with Louis’, satisfied. Although Louis was still leaving–they’d deliberately avoided talking about what would happen tomorrow–at least this morning, Harry couldn’t help but feel as if everything was as it was supposed to be.

Harry’s eyes landed on Liam again, texting with a shy smile on his face. Then, Harry looked to Zayn who was sneaking glances at his phone where it sat blowing up on the tabletop. _Huh_. It was funny the things you noticed when you looked closely.

“Those two are made for each other for sure.”

Harry smiled but it was bittersweet. “Yeah. Makes you wonder how much we miss out on because of all these stupid made-up rules.” He followed Louis’ gaze to the back of the room. “Oh, you mean Niall and Shawn. Yeah totally, although they’ll probably last all of two weeks.”

Louis snorted. “Maybe, but they’re going to have a damn good time for those two weeks.”

Harry blushed and Louis squeezed his hand.

Louis continued, “Do you think that about you and me? If it wasn’t for all that other shit we might have been…” Louis paused, struggling to put a label on it, “… _friends_ sooner?”

Harry shrugged but smiled for Louis’ benefit. “Doesn’t really help to dwell on it, I guess.”

Louis looked up at him. “I don’t know if I said before but thank you. After El– what she _did_ , if it wasn’t for your letter, I don’t know what I would have done.”

Harry chewed his lip, a little breathless. “You deserve so much, Louis. I just– I wanted you to know that.”

Louis shifted in his seat. “I don’t want to give this up yet. For the first time in ages I feel like I can actually breathe. And _you_ –” Louis sighed, “I just want more time.”

“You know, it’s weird. Last night, I could feel time ticking away, like every minute that passed was one less that I had to talk to you, tell you how I felt. But now, I feel the opposite, like we have nothing _but_ time, our whole futures ahead of us. We can do whatever we want. Everything that’s happened, it doesn’t matter anymore. It’s never too late.”

Louis smiled. “You have no idea how good it feels to hear that.”

Harry bit his lip but continued, “Do you know I saw you, your first day? Before you even walked in the door, I saw you. And I knew.”

Louis’ cheeks reddened but he didn’t shy away, holding Harry’s gaze. “I’ll write to you. Every day.”

Harry could barely believe how beautiful Louis looked, hair mussed and tired eyes but with a smile that finally looked genuine. “Don’t think about that now.” Harry checked his watch. “And we still have, oh, 26 hours until you have to get on the plane. Heaps of time.” He laughed warmly.

Louis swallowed. “I don’t want to waste any of it. What do you say we get out of here?”

Harry squeezed Louis’ hand before letting go. “Let’s go.”

**THE END**

**Author's Note:**

> If you made it to the end, thanks so much for reading!
> 
> The post for this fic is [here](https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard/blog/bitter-leaf/612634153854304256) if you would like to reblog, or I am here on [tumblr](https://bitter-leaf.tumblr.com) if you'd like to chat :D
> 
> CWs for a character being outed against their will and another character experiencing a panic attack. Also Eleanor is a mean girl in this, if that bothers you. Someone had to be the mean bits of Mike Dexter *shrugs*


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